Geekomancy (25 page)

Ree hunkered back down and played with the lock for another minute before it clicked. When the door opened, she played the
Final Fantasy
victory music in her brain.

•   •   •

Having skittered down and escaped the Western Bank Building without notice, Ree and Drake returned to Drake’s apartment for more planning. And pizza. Drake put on some water for tea.

“I have an herbal tisane that does wonders for the spirit. It should be most beneficial,” Drake said. “I first learned of this mixture when my Mistress led us through the hills of the Worry-Wargs.”

Ree half-listened to Drake retelling the tale, the other half of her attention put to the task of devouring a piece of pizza. She could officially add “Dogfight with a malevolent spirit” to her rapidly growing list entitled:

Shit I Never Thought I’d Have to Do But Somehow Have Anyway.

1) Justify my video game habit to a boyfriend.

2) Listen to a drunken idiot talk about all the places he wants to grope me just for the tip so I can make rent and not get thrown out of my apartment.

3) Write a response to a letter suggesting I rewrite my Lovecraft Roller Derby short film into a children’s cartoon.

4) Dodge the wild swipes of a troll.

5) Seriously consider the various superpowers I could gain by mimicking different narrative genres.

6) Aerothopter dogfight with a malevolent spirit through downtown Pearson.

“How would you like to proceed?” Drake asked as he pulled ingredients from his jars and bottles.

“The hell if I know. When we tracked it, we were always a step behind.” She arced her back and twisted left and right to pop a couple of vertebrae. “You said it goes somewhere to recover? Where is that? Can we follow it there and take it out?”

Drake’s eyes went wide. “That would be highly inadvisable. When spirits are wounded, they retreat beyond the Veil to recover their strength in the aether.”

“So, how bad of an idea is it to go there? On a scale of cooking-without-a-shirt to being-an-evil-priest-in-an-Alexandre-Dumas-book?”

Drake raised an eyebrow, pausing in his apothecary-ing to consider. “I imagine it is rather the equivalent of attending a Victorian grand ball wearing nothing but your unmentionables and trying to woo the stuffy archduke so you can cement a marriage that will save your country from certain destruction.”

Ree smiled. “Great, when do we start?”

Drake had apparently ignored her last comment, going back to mixing ingredients. The teakettle whistled, and he deftly snatched it from the burner and poured hot water into the bowl. With calm efficiency, he produced a wooden spoon from a drawer and stirred.

“Piercing the Veil is difficult enough to do on its own, but what lies beyond is far worse. In my journeys, I was accompanied by a being of incredible power, and even I nearly lost my way a number of times. It may be far easier to pierce the Veil now, given the imminence of All Hallows’ Eve, but that will mean the denizens of Spirit will be all the more agitated.”

Ree took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Do you have a better idea? I’d be happy to not go anywhere near uppity spirits if I can avoid it.” An echo of the Muses’ emotional gut punch rippled through her like a shudder mixed with a cold burn.

Drake poured part of the concoction into a mug and offered it to Ree. “This should help.”

It looked terrible.
This will probably taste nasty as hell, so I might as well go for it.
“Bottoms up,” she said, and took a big swig.

Guh
. It tasted like crusty socks, sunflower seeds, and spoiled milk. She set the mug down and tried to scrape the sensation off her tongue with her teeth and rolled her shoulders in distaste. But after a few seconds, the aftertaste mellowed, and her whole body felt warmer, like she had been basking in the sun.

“Wow. That’s good stuff. Tastes horrible.”

“So it goes. Pastries are marvelous yet terrible for you. However, your people make them so sweet these days. And salty. I nearly retched the first time I had a donut.”

Ree narrowed her eyes at Drake. “We’re in a fight now. Donuts are amazing.”

Drake held up his hands, yielding. “Only the first time. I’ve become rather fond of their decadence since then. I once subsisted on nothing more than donuts and root beer for a week. It ended rather poorly.”

Ree quirked a half-smile and nodded. “You’d have to at least throw in some cheeseburgers to make that diet work.” She took another sip of the tisane, grimaced, and relaxed as a second wave of warmth ran through her body. She took a deep breath, then chugged the rest of the mug.

“Eaucch.” Ree stamped her feet in a flamenco-esque burst, then exhaled slowly. The immediacy and closeness of the pain brought on by the Muse’s touch receded, like it had happened a month ago instead of an hour. “That’s good stuff. Needs honey.”

Drake shook his head. “Sadly, the taste is part of the effect. If you were to change the taste, the tisane would become just a foul drink with a touch of honey.”

“So, can we get into spirit-land or not?”

Drake sighed. “Yes. But I cannot stress enough how dangerous it would be.”

“I get it. But I’m already neck-deep in ridiculous danger, and if I sit by, someone else dies, and then Eastwood will get eaten by demons or start an eternal rain of fire or something. If there’s no better way to stop it than by going through the Veil, I have to try.”

Drake crossed the room and took a slice of the pizza. “I can show you how to pierce the Veil. I can even go with you. But once we cross the threshold, I cannot guarantee anything.”

Uncertain doom versus almost total failure? Fantastic choice. Maybe he has a time machine and can go back to change things so I never meet Eastwood in the first place.

Not like it would help.

Wishing herself back into ignorance wouldn’t matter. The suicides would still be dead, and Eastwood would still be on a collision course with damnation or whatever it was that happened when someone Fausted themselves out in the real world. He’d said that people could become not-people, but she didn’t know what that really meant. Maybe he was just being melodramatic.

“If it’s that dangerous, why would you go with me?”

Drake’s face hardened. “No one should face Spirit alone, and your mission is righteous.” His smile returned. “Also, I have on several occasions been rightly accused of possessing a lack of common sense. I
am
an adventurer, after all.”

“When can we leave?”

“It will take some time to make the preparations. Midnight, at the earliest, barely before dawn if things go poorly. You should get some rest, one way or another.”

“I could help.”

Drake took a step toward her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Help me by getting some sleep. You’ll need to be well rested. Make your spirit as healthy as you can before testing it again. Spend time with friends, loved ones. Stoke the fires of your heart as best you can, because they will be cooled to embers by the trials of the Otherworld.”

Ree smiled up at the man from another time. “You’re a little much sometimes. But you know that, right?”

“I’ve been told that as well. I will telephone you when the moment is come.”

Ree reached up and squeezed Drake’s hand, then collected her things.

Chapter Fourteen

Wait for It . . .

Ree caught the train home and plodded her way up the stairs. The elevator was, of course, broken. Either the universe conspired to have the elevator out of service only when it was particularly annoying, or she never noticed when it didn’t matter. Either way, she tried not to take personal offense and decided to make herself some coffee when she reached The Shithole.

Sandra wasn’t home.
Probably out with Darren.
Ree mulled over possibilities. Sleep, TV, beer, sleep, video games, call Anya or Priya, sleep.

Sleep was the leading contender, but it was contraindicated with coffee, which was already in process. And wasting good coffee was against her religion. She poured the water into her French press, taking in the steam and the wafting nutty aroma of Bryan’s Dark Dungeons Roast.

She fired up her console and loaded
Portal
. She’d played the game through a half-dozen times, but the idea of solvable puzzles sounded amazing.
Something I can beat, something I’m actually good at, unlike this carnival of kooks.

Zapping doorways into walls and platforms, she did her best to relax, let the caffeine fill the chill from the dogfight and the Muse’s touch. The world fell away, and there was only the cheerful sadism of GLaDOS.

Two hours later, she noticed the apartment was dark save for the glow off the TV. She turned on a couple of lights and fetched her phone to call Anya.

“What’s the word?” Anya asked when she picked up.

“Stir-crazy. You free?” Ree paced around the apartment, walking heel to toe like a tightrope walker. It was one of the many things she did to occupy her mind while on the phone.

“Sure thing. Where should we go?”

“Trollope’s?” Ree suggested.

Anya made an
mmh-hh
sound. “Sounds good. Meet you there?”

“Say nine?”

“Got it. I’ll bring my hollow leg.”

Ree hung up and went to change. She emerged five minutes later in tights, a dark red skirt, and a loose black top cinched with a wide belt. She grabbed her corduroy blazer out of the closet and checked her phone on the way out the door. No messages.

Commence drinking!

Trollope’s Trollops was packed with students and townies eager to catch the 9:30 burlesque show. Anya was already there, sitting on a stool at the corner of the bar area. She had a pint of cider in front of her; it was her drink of choice for long nights of talking.

Ree weaved her way through the crowd, dodging waitresses with full trays of drinks, shiny shot girls in short skirts and glitter, and beefy barbacks with buckets full of dishes. The tables were full, between college students fueling up to finish the drinking weekend, Woo Girls worshipping at the altar of shots, and a few unassuming regulars drinking quietly at the bar.

Anya stood from her stool, and Ree gave her a hug. Seeing that there weren’t any other stools free, she scanned the room for two open seats together. “Do you see anything?” she asked.

“You’re the tall one here. I’ve got nothing.”

Ree continued to scan. Finding nothing, she turned around and caught Andrew’s attention. Andrew was one of the few males charming and efficient enough to get weekend shifts. Most places in the U-District had 100 percent female bartenders Thursday through Sunday, but Andrew was so good, he might have been a magician. He was six-two and had the muscles of a former barback who never let himself go soft, along with the black T-shirt and shaved head that seemed part of the “male booze enabler” uniform code.

Ree leaned in to the bar, and Andrew appeared in front of her. He grabbed four bottles, scooped up some ice in a glass, and poured the liquor for a Long Island. “Hi, Ree. What’ll you have?”

“Grey Goose martini with a twist, thanks.” She had been ruined on well liquor before she was eighteen, sadly, leaving it along with any possibility of being a cheap date.

Andrew grabbed the well tap and topped off the drink while he reached down and pulled out the lemon. He vanished for a second to deliver the drink and returned, pouring and shaking with speedy ease.

“I say we camp here and wait for a table,” Ree said to Anya.

Anya raised her glass in salute and took a drink.

Andrew set Ree’s martini in front of her with a smile, then vanished again.
It’s good to be known.
She’d been coming to Trollope’s for years, and that kind of loyalty bought you a certain amount of trust from the staff. Sometimes the leeway included free drinks. Mostly, she enjoyed being known, being in her comfort zone.

“So what’s up? You haven’t been at the café much this week,” Anya said.

Ree sighed.
Divulging my new secret Urban Fantasy life is probably not advised.
“Stuff has come up, and I was hella-sick for a day. What about you?”

Anya shrugged. “Still banging my head against my theory essay, but at least I got to show
Chasing Amy
in section. That was a riot.”

“Actual riot?”

“Close. I’ve got three students who should probably drop the class but seem like they’ve decided to dig in and start arguments instead. One guy asked how a lesbian could fall for a guy, and then one of my lesbians started tearing into the movie, talking about how it was crap because bisexuality was a lie, and then this bi guy jumped in to rage against her . . .”